The Worst Idea in the History of Ever
by branewurms
Summary: Alice/Oz/Gil. Let us assume that two or three years have gone by and the three are still together. Let us assume that Oz's mysterious powers of persuasion are put to extremely unwise ends. We have ourselves a failpie in the making. Mature content.


The funny thing was, Oz hadn't even been serious. He'd just wanted to see their blushing, stammering faces. He'd known Alice would probably slug him, but it would be worth it, he'd thought. But somehow...

"OW!" Gilbert said. "That was my _leg_, you idiot! Watch where you're kicking!"

"It's your fault for putting your leg in the way!" Alice huffed. "And anyway, your bony knee keeps jabbing me in the hip, so consider it payback, seaweed."

How Oz had ever managed to convince either of them that this wasn't the worst idea in the history of ever, he had no idea. But neither was Oz the sort of person to look a gift horse in the mouth; and so, somehow, it had turned out like this.

"Um, guys?" Oz ventured. "I don't think this is really a good time for-"

"Don't call me seaweed, you stupid rabbit!" Gilbert continued, heedless.

"Hah!" said Alice. "A seaweed-head is a seaweed-head!"

The problem was that Oz was beginning to think that it _had_, in fact, been the worst idea in the history of ever.

"Alice," Oz squeaked. "You... you're squeezing... too hard..."

Gilbert grabbed Alice's wrist and wrenched her hand away from Oz's more sensitive bits, a venture which produced a splendid display of Oz's surprisingly impressive vocal range. "Look, you don't even know what you're doing!" Gilbert accused. "You're hurting him!"

Oz would have pointed out that it was, in actuality, Gilbert's actions which had caused the excruciating pain, but he was too busy affirming that all of those sensitive bits were still intact.

"I know better than you two brats!" Alice huffed.

"Like hell you do!"

"Are you looking for a fight?" Alice grabbed Gilbert's collar, yanking him closer. "Don't think I'll go easy on you!"

"Guys," Oz wheezed, sandwiched between the two. "Can't... breathe..."

Neither Gilbert nor Alice seemed to hear him, both reduced to pre-verbal snarling.

Oz wasn't sure how they'd even gotten this far without either of their mutterings tipping over into murderous rage, but it seemed that point was about to pass. It was about to pass, and here was Oz, stuck _between_ them. Oz wondered how to extract himself before he ended up seriously maimed or dead. Their arms were crossed over him, one of Gilbert's long legs woven between Oz's own, Oz's hand caught rather inconveniently between Alice's thighs.

Oz wriggled. Nobody moved to release him.

He was trapped.

He was going to die, wasn't he?

"Um, guys!" Oz tried, growing desperate. There were worse ways to go, he acknowledged, but all the same, he'd prefer to keep his life - and sensitive bits - intact.

"Let go of me or I'll kill you!" said Gilbert, pushing at Alice's head.

"That's my line!" Alice said. "You're like the scum stuck to the bottom of my shoe!"

"Guys!" cried Oz. "Could you _please_ stop for one..."

Oz trailed off, his eyes widening. He had noticed something. As the two continued to growl at one another, Alice's thighs kept clenching harder around Oz's hand, her hips twitching subtly, rubbing herself against him. Her flesh felt feverishly hot and damp against Oz's palm. And Gilbert... Pressed up in a long line against Oz's back, Oz could feel him through their clothes, and the man's erection hadn't flagged in the least; in fact, the way Gilbert was pushing up against him, hard and insistent, one would almost think...

"You guys are getting turned on by this!" Oz blurted.

"I'll scrape your face off, you-" said Alice, and then froze. "What?"

"What?" Gilbert echoed, his body going just as rigid as Alice's.

Taking the opportunity, Oz wrenched his way up from between them and turned to look down. "You two are getting turned on from yelling at each other, aren't you?"

There was a long, icy silence. The two glanced at each other. Then both of their faces slowly twisted, flushing from neck to hairline to the approximate shade of a tomato, each the very image of pure mortification. Mirroring each other, they raised their arms up before themselves as though to ward off Oz's discovery.

"WHO WOULD BE?!" Alice exploded, after a long, helpless moment of horrified spluttering. "By that... that!" A word wretched enough could not be found, so she just pointed in Gilbert's direction and let out a little scream of incoherent rage.

Gilbert, who had not yet progressed past the helpless-spluttering-in-horror stage, made a sound akin to a cat being strangled.

"But Alice," said Oz, "You were-"

Alice let out another scream. "Shut up!"

"And Gil, you were-"

Gilbert yelped and covered his ears. "Stop it, stop it!" he cried.

"So maybe you two should-"

"LIKE HELL!" said Gilbert and Alice in unison, just as Alice's foot caught Oz square in the stomach and sent him tumbling unceremoniously from the bed.

Oz hit the floor with a cry and a thump. "Ack," he coughed, curling into a fetal position. "Okay, okay! So it's still a little... too early... for that..."

A pillow slammed into Oz's head and bounced off.

"In a million years it'd be to early for that!" Alice snarled. She pointed at Gilbert. "Get out of my sight, you eye-sore!"

"Wha-" Gilbert said. "This is _my room_, you stupid rabbit! Why don't _you_ get out?!"

"What did you say, seaweed-head?! Do you want to die?!"

Oz groaned and covered his ears with the pillow. Yes, this had definately been the worst idea in the history of ever.

But, he thought, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, that wasn't going to stop him from trying it again. _As soon as possible._


End file.
